


Asked and answered

by fromthedeskoftheraven



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Battle of Five Armies Fix-It, F/M, Family, Family Drama, Family Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-13
Updated: 2016-02-13
Packaged: 2018-05-20 02:10:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5988517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fromthedeskoftheraven/pseuds/fromthedeskoftheraven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chapter 10 of the Mapmaker Series. A human woman joins the company of Thorin Oakenshield on the quest to Erebor as a mapmaker and finds a lifelong love.</p>
<p>Thorin seeks his wife's advice about Kili and Tauriel's courtship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Asked and answered

Thorin was preoccupied that night. You could see it in the way he sat on the edge of the bed, staring pensively into the fireplace, holding his tunic in his hands but apparently having abandoned the notion of putting it on. The crackling flames cast flickers of light and shadow that darkened the furrow of his brow and danced over the lines of his bare chest and arms. You watched him quietly as you stood before the mirror, already dressed in your nightgown, brushing your hair before bed.

Putting the brush back in its place on the small vanity table, you went to the bed and crawled across its width to sit on your knees just behind him, leaning forward to softly kiss his cheek. As though roused from a trance, he started a bit and turned to you with a smile and a kiss to your lips. “You are quiet tonight,” you observed, resting your chin on his shoulder. 

“I am sorry,” he replied, shaking his head. “I do not mean to be.” 

You sat up straight again, and, placing your hands on his broad shoulders, began to massage his tense muscles. He closed his eyes and let out a soft groan of relaxation that made you both chuckle. “What troubles you, my love?” you asked, your fingers kneading his warm skin, moving from his shoulders up to his neck. 

He sighed. “It is Kili.” 

“Kili?” you frowned. 

“He wishes to see the elf-maid,” Thorin explained, a note of exasperation creeping into his voice. 

“Ah. Tauriel,” you said softly, understanding everything now. “I see…what have you told him?” 

“I told him it is impossible, of course. His life would be worthless in Thranduil’s domain, it would be utter foolishness for him to go to her.” 

“Mmm,” you nodded, working your hands over his shoulder blades. He was silent under your ministrations for a few minutes, then, suddenly taking your hand in his, he shifted himself on the bed to face you. 

“What would you do?” he asked, his eyes searching yours. 

“Me?” you replied in surprise. 

He nodded. “I ask for your counsel…as the one whom I trust above all others.“

You moved to sit beside him, swinging your legs over the edge of the bed, thinking for a moment. “Well…you’re right that Kili clearly cannot go to Mirkwood. The moment he stepped through those gates, he might be a rabbit walking into a snare.” Thorin nodded, listening intently. “But,” you continued, “what if he were to send a messenger to Tauriel? A human messenger, especially, who would not be perceived as a threat…Kili could ask Tauriel to meet him in a neutral place – Dale, perhaps, or Esgaroth – and they could have some time together to sort out their feelings without the risk of you or Thranduil provoking each other by appearing to promote the relationship.” 

Thorin raised his eyebrows. “It is well thought of, amrâlimê,” he conceded, “but…is it wise, to begin with? You believe they should be together?” 

You smiled, a bit ruefully. “I believe he loves her, whether or not any of us thinks it wise.” 

Thorin ran his hand through his hair, his frustration returning. “But she is an elf!” 

“Yes, and I am a human, and there are still some dwarves who would say that you have chosen as poorly as you accuse Kili of doing.” He looked pained by the comparison, and you ran your fingers down the length of one of his braids, speaking gently. “What if you had been separated from me because of hatred and distrust begun long before you were born? Thorin, you know I have no more love for Thranduil than you do, but I am sorry to see Kili suffer because of an age-old quarrel. And Tauriel is…different. She is brave and compassionate. If you could have seen her caring for him in Laketown…” you tilted your head to look into his downcast eyes. “I know you have not forgotten that Kili would not be here for us to worry about had she not risked herself, twice, to save him.” 

He raised his head to meet your gaze. “No, I have not,” he answered, his tone softening. 

“Only you can decide what is best, but…perhaps they deserve a chance,” you finished, and a tentative smile crept across your face, answered by one of his own. Without warning, Thorin leaned in and kissed you, passionately. “What was that for?” you asked, a bit shyly. 

“For being the one woman I would be lost without,” he murmured, brushing your hair back behind your shoulder. 

“Well,” you smiled, “you asked for my counsel and now you have it. I hope it has not displeased you.” 

He shook his head. “Never. I asked because I knew you would answer honestly. You have given me much to think about.”

The next evening, you were waiting in your dining room for Thorin to arrive when the door opened and Kili entered. “Kili!” you greeted him, surprised and pleased. “What brings you here?” 

He shrugged his shoulders. “Thorin told me to come for supper.” 

“Oh! I am so glad. Please, sit down,” you said, crossing to the sideboard to pour him a mug of ale. “How are you? Tell me what you’ve been up to.” 

Kili’s usual enthusiasm was somewhat subdued, but he rose to the occasion, regaling you with a tale of having accidentally bloodied his own nose with his sword hilt while sparring with Fili. “…So then the great oaf tells me, ‘just pinch it closed,’ after my tunic already looks like I’ve just fought ten orcs and lost!” 

You were laughing at his description of their skirmish when Thorin walked in, placing his hands on your shoulders and greeting you with a kiss, giving a smiling nod to Kili as he poured himself some ale.

The meal was awkward. Thorin seemed hesitant to speak, as though the words he wanted to say were sticking in his throat, and Kili shot slightly mutinous looks at him and gave the briefest of answers when he attempted to make conversation. In the end, the two of them mostly picked at their food while you tried valiantly to engage them on lighthearted topics. 

At last, after the supper dishes had been cleared away and cakes and wine were served, Thorin leaned forward with his elbows on the table, his hands clasped together. “Kili,” he began, “I asked you to come here tonight because I have been thinking on what we talked about.” Kili looked skeptical, as though another lecture might be forthcoming, but Thorin forged ahead. “I have considered, and I have sought wise counsel,” here he looked pointedly at you, and you gave him an encouraging nod, “and I have come to a decision. You may write a letter to the elf-maid. If she will see you, you may go to her. _But,_ ” he pointed his finger, speaking sternly, “not in Mirkwood.” Kili nodded tentatively, a spark of hope in his eyes, waiting to hear Thorin’s conditions. “If she will see you, you may go – with Fili – to one of the villages of men and meet there with her. You will behave honorably toward her in every way. I am sure I do not need to explain myself upon that point.“ 

Kili’s cheeks colored, as did your own, but he answered firmly, “of course.” 

“After that, you will return to Erebor and she to Mirkwood, and if you are still determined to have her…” he gave a small sigh, doubtless imagining the disapproval of generations of his ancestors, “I will see if anything can be done. How does this suit you?” 

Kili’s face broke out in one of his radiant smiles that seemed to light up the room. “Thorin, it is too good to be true…thank you.“ He laughed out loud. “Thank you!”

Thorin looked pleased by his happiness, but his expression became serious again. “Kili, one thing I must ask of you: if she refuses, or if Thranduil refuses, more like,” he said soberly, “you must agree to let it lie and pursue her no more. I cannot risk war with the Wood-elves for the sake of your affection for this Tauriel.” 

“Agreed,” Kili promised seriously, though he still looked giddy with joy. He stood up abruptly. “With your permission, I would like to go and begin writing my letter.” 

Thorin also pushed his chair back from the table to stand, and you followed suit. “Of course you would,” he smiled wryly at his nephew. “When it is ready, we will seek a messenger from Dale to convey it.” 

Kili grinned, and suddenly lurched forward, throwing his arms around Thorin and saying, “thank you. You will not regret this.” 

“That is more than any of us can say. But,” Thorin’s voice became gentler as he embraced Kili, patting him soundly on the back, “I wish you well, lad.” 

Before you knew it, you found yourself almost bowled over in a hug, and Kili was whispering, “thank you!” in your ear. With a wink and a smile, he was gone, scampering out of the room on his happy errand.

Thorin looked over to find you smiling at him with a twinkle of amusement in your eye. “What?” he raised an eyebrow at your expression, and you grinned cheekily at him. 

“Who would have thought? Thorin Oakenshield, playing matchmaker.” 

He groaned. “Don’t you dare.” 

“Or else what?” you teased, and he chuckled. You went to him and put your arms around him, saying quietly, “I am very proud of you. I know that was not an easy decision to make.” 

“No,” Thorin admitted, “and I am not entirely convinced that it was the right one, but, as you said…perhaps they deserve a chance.” 

You smiled at him, stroking his cheek with the knuckles of your fingers. “Maybe it is foolish of me, but I have hope that it will all work out for the best.” 

“Well, if Kili’s elf-maid can make him half as happy as you have made me,” he placed a light kiss on the tip of your nose, and then a deeper one on your lips, “he will be very, very lucky indeed.”


End file.
